Of DIs, coffee and secret operations
by EvannaLy
Summary: All Greg wants is some nice, hot coffee. What he gets instead is a house full of hostages and a British government in need of rescue.


**Hey there,**

 **this is a small Mystrade OS, although there's not that much interaction between the two of them. Anthea and Sally also appear.**

 **I hope you enjoy reading this piece and bless me with some reviews :D**

 **Disclaimer : I own nothing but the story idea, all else we have to thank BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for:D**

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 **Of DIs, coffee and secret operations**

Greg sighed. After an awful morning spent with catching a triple murderer, berating Sherlock for his audacity in front of all the victims relations – he had managed to insult, frighten and making them angry at the same time – and working himself through a tiring pile of paperwork the one thing he really craved was a nice cup of coffee. Real coffee, mind you, not the pathetic version the office had to offer, a brown watery liquid which tasted nothing but bitter.

He was in the motion of putting on his coat, as Sally crashed through his office door, breathing heavily while wearing a stressed expression. „There's an emergeny, sir. A group of five men stormed into a governmental building. According to the witnesses there were gun shots, before everything turned quiet. They took several hostages, we don't know what they want yet.", „Oh damnit! What do we know about the men?", he asked while rushing out of the room. They couldn't afford loosing any time!

„Not much. They are working for a terror organization we have no real record about. Our database only says 'restricted information'. But they are probably all between 20 and 25 years old, not unexperienced with guns and hopefully will try to make a bargain of some kind. Our guys are trying to contact them and learn about their wants in that regard.", „Ok, thank you Sally. I want you to – wait a second." His phone had beeped, but not with his usual 'you've got a text message' sound, but the 'this is a real emergency' one. He was proven right, it was from Anthea, so he frantically opened it.

„ _We're in the invaded building – Mycrofts in here too; they want delicate documents but don't know they are in here; they only wanted a leverage for a deal; work together with MI6; can't write again, in case they see me"_

Included was the contact to MI6 and the codeword 'iceman'. „Shit, shit, shit!" Of course things had to be even more complicated. With Mycroft inside of the building the danger of the situation had reached a new level. At least the invaders hadn't recognized him yet!

„What's going on, sir?", Sally asked apprehensively. „Mycroft Holmes is in this building, we need to hurry up. Sally, I need you to help the team who works on contacting them. I'll deal with MI6 before joining you!", „MI6?!", „I've told you, Mr. Holmes is in this building. National security is at risk! And all I wanted was a cup of coffee...", he murmured to himself before dialling the given number and dismissing Sally.

„Hello, my name is Lestrade, I'm a Detective Inspector form Scotland Yard. Iceman is in danger, his PA gave me your number. We are working on..."

Ten minutes later both Greg and a special team from MI6 was on its way to Downing Street, where the police had already cleared the area and worked from a van to contact the invaders. When Greg reached them twenty minutes later, Sally had the situation under control, given the circumstances, giving instructions while organizing the patroulling teams at the same time.

„MI6 is on its way. Find out if there are any construction plans of the building, it could be of use. I'll deal with the talking.", „Yes, sir.", and away she was. Greg took a seat in the van, next to the head of tech-department. Mr. Wright, or something like that. „How's it going?", „Almost there, sir. We've managed to secure the connection. You'll be able to talk with 'em in a minute."

He stayed true to his words and one minute later Greg had a microphone in front of him, while the whole van was able to follow the phone call.

„Hello? Can you hear me?", Greg asked tensely and an affirmation could be heard in a broken english. „Here speaks DI Lestrade from Scotland Yard. The building is surrounded. Give up and let the captive held people free! You only make your case worse.", _„You can't fool us, the police 's nothin' against us!",_ „Please be reasonable! What do you want in exchange for the captives?", _„A way out of here, a clear exit from the country AND all documents concerning the secret treaty with China!"_ Greg shared a glance with the MI6 officer, who had entered the van a minute ago. „Before we agree on anything, I want a confirmation that the captives are still alive. Let me speak to someone!" At the same time he scribbled a sentence on a piece of paper and gave it to the officer. It said: „Try to invade the building from underground, I'll prolong the talking; be careful, they probably have guards placed; my people will continue surrounding the building" The officer nodded once before leaving the van, while Greg inhaled deeply, soundlessly. It would work, it would work, it would work. He could do talking.

He could hear quiet voices on the other end of the connection – they probably discussed the risks of letting one of the captives speak with the police. Finally they reached a conclusion and a _„Get up, you bitch!"_ could be heard. Then – _„H-hello?"_ , „Hello, with whom am I speaking?", Greg tried to ask as calmly and convincing as possible, while he was inwardly completely tense. He was speaking with Anthea, that much was clear. She obviously pulled off an act of the frightened, little secretary and was deemed as the littlest risk. Hah, how utterly wrong they were!

„ _M-my name i-is Anthea."_ , „Hello Anthea, I am DI Lestrade and I'm trying to help you. Are you injured?" _, „N-no, I'm f-fine, I think, we're ok."_ Perfect, at least something went right. It seemed as if the terrorists hadn't realized that their wanted prize was right under their nose. He wrote as much on a paper next to him – not everyone could decode Anthea. „Ok, that's good, my dear, that's really good! How many are there with you?", _„I don't know, the whole first floor staff, though, and most of the second's, I think."_ , „Thank you dear. Could you please tell me, where exactly you are right now?" Greg knew it was a risk, but he had to ask nonetheless. _„Office"_ , was all Anthea could say before the phone was taken from her. _„That's enough! They are all alive – at least for now. I'll give you 15 minutes to assure as a clear getaway. We'll call you back then. And no tricks, or we'll have the first death to speak of!"_ Then there was only silence.

„Hurry up!", Greg yelled immediately. „They have ALL of the buildings staff and so far they are all ok, but the first will probably be in serious panic by now. They are all situated in the biggest office on the first floor, usually occupied by Mr. Mycroft Holmes. It's on the backside of the building, the one with the large window panels!" The MI6 officer texted this information at once to the group of his people, which was currently searching its way through the old cellar of the building. „They aren't included in the newer plans of the building and not very popular either, so they will hopefully be able to enter the other levels without much problems.", the officer explained. „They have entered the cellar through an old connection with the neighbourhouse."

Greg nodded and went searching for Sally, who organized the police men now. „Everything's going fine. We have people all around the building, some in clear sight, some hidden. MI6 also sent a few additional men and women who are now on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, ready to knock these idiots out, if necessary.", „Ok, that's good."

He walked back to the van then, constantly checking his wrist watch how much time they had left. 9 minutes to go. He sat down in front of the microphone again and took a deep breath while collecting his thoughts. What a day! He just hoped, this whole affair would go by smoothly without any casualties. And Mycroft! It was the first time Greg could actually think about what it meant that Mycroft was in there. He was right in saying, their all national security were at risk. And he should probably call Sherlock about it, but he both didn't have the nerve to deal with that brat right now and he knew the consulting detective would feign disinterest either way, despite what he was really feeling. So no, he could call Sherlock later.

And Greg really hoped, that Mycroft was ok. He actually took a liking to that always sarcastic but still overly polite man during all the kidnapping he did in order to check out Sherlocks associates. Greg could see right through this mask of his – Mycroft was caring about his little brother, really concerned for him 'constantly'. Rather sweet thing, if you asked him.

But Greg had to remind himself to stay alert. A quick glance to his watch told him that there were only three minutes left, before the second phonecall would start. „How far are they?", he asked the officer who had joined him in order to follow the conversation with the criminals. „They're in the building now, still on the ground floor though. There was one guard so far, of whom they took care of.", „Ok, good, so four to go.", Greg murmured. Then they remained silent for the rest of the time. There was nothing they could do instead of waiting.

After two minutes of said silence the ringing of the phone seemed piercing in their ears. Greg took a deep breath before picking up. The countdown had begun and he prayed that all ended well.

„Who's there?", _„You know exactly who is calling."_ , said the same icy voice from earlier. _„Were you as productive as recommended, Detective? How are the escaping plans going and the delivering of this shit of a treaty?"_ , „Green light for the escaping.", Greg lied without hesitating. „This treaty of yours though – it takes a little longer than 15 minutes to get such an important document, you know."

He knew it was dangerous to play on time, but he had talked it through with the officer – it was the only way to buy the MI6 guys some time. And these were the only one who could really help the trapped people once reaching them. So they had to risk angering the criminals, if they liked it or not.

„ _What do you mean? Do you really beg for this people here to die?"_ , the voice yelled angrily. The next second a shot could be heard and the crying of several people. Gregs fingers tightened and he had to stop himself from yelling back. He really hated situations like this. To be more precise: he hated feeling helpless! And exactly this feeling was hitting him in waves while he could do nothing but simply sitting there in his chair, listening to the frightened voices of the hostages.

„Please be reasonable! Even in an emergency like this the government doesn't simply hands us out such a treaty. We need more time! We don't try to stall!", he managed to spit out without sounding too angry. In the same moment the officer showed him a piece of paper. _„One more guard down. They aren't suspicious yet, but will likely start to get dangerously nervous."_ Greg nodded once, a little bit relieved. As soon as the MI6 had secured the captives, everything would be fine. And despite how dangerous these men were – there were only three of them left.

„ _You're better speaking the truth, Detective! You have five minutes, five more minutes before the first one dies!",_ tuuut tuuut tuuut. They had ended the call. „Everyone's still alive!", I shouted to Sally, who shared the information with all the other cops. At least one good thing to hear!

Greg turned to the officer, a serious expression on his face. „Any news from your men? Time's running low, they have to hurry or there WILL be victims!", „Last thing they said was about their finishing of the second guy. But they know the importance of acting fast. Actually I think they should reach the office in the next few minutes. The gun shots will tell." Greg stared at him unimpressed. „I'd prefer exactly three well aimed ones, if it really should be necessary." He guessed that one hardened up after some time at the MI6, but Gregs job was to save the innocent people. Gun shots most of the times meant chaos and hurt, not saving.

In the end all went well given the circumstances. The three men were overpowered by the MI6 and all captives could be freed without being too badly injured physically. The shot that was heard over the phone had only been a warning one. The mental side on the other hand was a completely different story. Most of them were in shock, a few had panic attacks and were in need of medically induced calming in order to calm down. But all in all it was a thourough success.

Mycroft and Anthea had walked out of the building as if nothing had happened, though their clothes showed they had been forced to sit on the ground for a long ammount of time. As soon as Greg had spotted them, he hurried in their direction. Even though he had known that they were okay, he felt the urge to check on them by himself. He scanned their expressions and postures and was relieved that they appeared as good as could be expected without any injuries to speak of. They probably had to deal with stuff like that once a week.

„We all have to thank you, Anthea. Without your quick-thinking it would have been a far more difficult to solve.", he said after his inspection. Anthea just smiled at him, before starting to text frantically on her blackberry. Things were returning to normal it seemed.

„We have to thank you, Detective.", „Greg, please.", he interrupted Mycroft, who curved up his lips a fraction. „If you hadn't understood Antheas hints, it could have ended really bad. So thank you, Gregory!" With that being sad the tall Holmes walked past by him and entered one of his many black cars, Anthea in tow. Greg could only watch him driving away, too shocked to move. A sincere thank you from a Holmes? That was one of the biggest compliment a Holmes man was able to give. He was proud to be on the receiving end of one of those, definetely!

He shook his head, disbelieving about the development of the whole situation and returned to Sally and the officer. There was a lot of paperwork in line for him now. Damn terrorists! Such a nuisance... First of all, he would finally get himself a really deserved cup of coffee! DIs could only endure so much without coffee, after all!

 _One week later:_

Things have returned to normal after that. He had informed Sherlock about the incident the next day when they've met in the pathology of St. Barts in order to inspect a victim of a street shooting and he had reacted exactly the way he prognosed. Though he was fairly sure that a certain government worker received an 'I'm bored'-visit that afternoon. It was always the same with these Holmes'.

He hadn't had any contact with Mycroft since that fateful Thursday and was even more surprised because of that to see him waiting at Gregs car one week later. His characteristic black car was waiting a few meters down the street and Mycroft himself was leaning casually on his umbrella, despite seeming completely out of place with his expensive suit and italian leather shoes in front of Scotland Yard.

„Hey there, what can I do for you?", Greg asked while walking towards him. He was met by a small smile. „I'm not here to sent you off to more work. I'd like to show my gratitude for your acting last week. Would you like to meet me for dinner tonight?" Greg stood there a little dumbstruck. He must have misunderstood something. There was no way in hell that HE was being invited to dinner by MYCROFT Holmes! „But I understand, of course, if you already have different plans and-", „No, no, it's ok, tonight's good.", he interrupted him fastly. If it would have been anyone but a Holmes, he would have said that Mycroft had been nervous about his possible rejection. Now his smile seemed to have grown a little larger.

„Have you thought about a location?", he asked in order to avoid an awkward silence. Mycroft only curved an eyebrow and stared intensely at him, which caused a funny feeling inside of him he couldn't identify. „Ok, ok, stupid question, when have you ever not thought about anything." Mycroft smirked at him and started to get ready to leave.

„A car of mine will pick you up at your place at 8pm. Don't worry about dresscode, we'll eat at my place. Goodbye, Gregory.", „Bye", was all he managed to stutter while watching Mycroft returning to his car as if nothing peculiar had happened at all. Then it hit him like a truck. He was having dinner with Mycroft Holmes! „Oh shit, oh shit." He quickly dialled a number on his phone, slowly starting to panic. „John? I need your help!"

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